words don’t stick
I threaten
with forgetfulness//
a personalized
rumor///
they laugh
***
will the gate lock?
I am tired
of being ripe
a morsel
shoulders stiff
with the crown of all who whispered crucifixion
I am a willing participant
the sadness
doesn’t bother me, it’s happiness
a formless
somewhere
between a smile and a salted rim
